these venomous lives
by the alphabet soup
Summary: In which they will look down at the ruins of another planet and laugh out of jealousy. Dark AU


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Lorien Legacies.

**Title:** these venomous lives

**Summary:** In which they will look down at the ruins of another planet and laugh out of jealousy. Dark AU

* * *

**i.**

Ice spreads between Marina's fingers, encasing her hand in the cold which she is unable to feel, and her eyes drift to the eyes of the Mog - cold, heartless, angry beings without remorse for their actions (when did she find herself synonymous with them?) - and the ice on her hand breaks, cracks forming slowly, then just as the frozen water begins to fall from her hand, she throws her arm back and punches the Mog in the face, ice cutting into his eyes and mouth and making him angry as well as fragile, and the dagger between her other arm finds its place in the Mog's chest.

His face dissolves first. The irises of his eyes turn gold, then dissolve into gray particles which fill his eye sockets, replacing eyes, and then his nose falls away, then his ears, then his mouth, and finally his skull collapses in on itself. The rest of his body turns to ash much too quickly - she finds a Mog's death pleasantly soothing - but she cannot help that. She vows to kill the next Mog slowly to carry on the show.

Nine has grown on her too much.

"Marina!"

Six's voice is deadly calm yet hints of anger remain. Marina knows that Six's anger is not misplaced, but she also knows that being angry at each other is the last thing they need. She turns away from the mound of ash in front of her to look at the abandoned house in its entirety. The windows are broken and a sour smell hangs in the air and mixes with the smell of dead rats. The Mogs here were young, foolish. It was unlikely they were even scouts.

Nine stands at Six's right. He holds his pipe staff in one hand and a Mog blaster in the other. His hair is covered in ash and a grim, twisted smile rests on his face that reflects the bloodlust in his eyes. Six speaks. "Did you get what you came for?" Her voice is low which Marina is partly grateful for and partly annoyed at. Without looking down, Marina fingers the vial in her hand.

"Yes. Let's move."

**ii.**

"You could have died."

"I didn't think you cared."

Six glares at her, her lips pulled in a frown and her black hair tied in a tight braid. Her olive skin looks beautiful in the light and her hazel eyes display the anger she felt (feels) for so long. The anger Marina now shares and keeps close to her heart so she never forgets. Her frown falls and she almost makes a smile then remembers. "If I didn't care I would have left you to die." She places her hand open on the table. "What were you willing to risk your life for out there?"

"You'll see." Marina replies and Six rolls her eyes - a gesture Marina frowns at - and stands up. She turns around and walks to the apartment door, and her hand grabs the handle, fingers wrapping around it, before she turns around to take one final look at Marina.

"We're leaving in one hour. Tell Nine to get his ass out of the shower." The door opens and like a shadow Six slips out, and Marina takes a seat on the leather couch, her feet resting on the floor because there are some habits she won't break. Her hand reaches into her jacket pocket to take out the small tissue-wrapped vial. It is small and the liquid contents clear - had she not known better she would have assumed it was water - and her hands grow colder not from her Legacy but from anticipation. Her heart speeds up and her mind drifts back to Adelina and the convent. Ella. Crayton. Hector. All those lives are so, so far away.

She hears something breaking and she bolts up, hand reaching for the dagger strapped to her thigh, before she realizes the sound came from the bathroom and it no doubt Nine's doing.

"Nine, get your ass out of the shower!" she shouts loud enough to get his attention. Judging from the chorus of of swears, he hears her.

**iii.**

The sword enters the Mog's heart quickly and as he turns into a sickly gray ash she pulls it out of his body and cuts into the Mog running at her with a dagger. Before this one turns to ash, the dagger is thrown into her shoulder and she is greeted by an explosion of pain which she quickly remedies. Her lips part to say something when she sees a Mog firing a blaster at Six who became visible for a small second, but instead of drawing attention she hurls the dagger in her hand and it lands in the Mog's head. He dissolves into ash and she breaks into a run, the Mogs blurring in her vision as she stabs them without hesitation, without forethought, and once she's killed her share she stops to look at the destruction in her wake.

The grass is covered in ash and blood splatters alike. Blasters are littered on the grass, tokens from an easily won battle, and apprehension fills her mind when she calculates that this is nothing compared to what will happen. The air smells of spring and she licks her lips to catch the bitter taste. "Nine, dagger." Six calls and he throws it to her casually as if it were a paperclip. His cockiness makes Marina's lips quirk upwards.

"Spring is coming." she says offhandedly and Nine looks at her with an expression she is unable to read. He's been working on that, then.

"Don't remind me it's one season closer to winter." he says and she rolls her eyes - a trait she's too familiar with - and he smirks. "The winter's a piece of shit. Just agree with me."

"Not as big of one as you are." Six replies. Nine looks offended and Marina smiles. "Come on. The Mogs'll be waiting for us."

**iv.**

Blood seeps through the blue shirt, creating a smell that makes her more nauseous than the sight of her own blood. Her lips feel unnaturally dry and her mind drifts to the the time she spent at the convent, and she tries to grimace because she is not going to remember that place as the life escapes from her lips. Screams fill her ears and her eyes close and a swear escapes her lips when she sees Eight staring back at her, his green eyes comforting and loving and _dead_.

* * *

"Marina._ Marina_. Wake up." The panicked voice she should remember jars her awake and she promises to make them regret dragging her from the paradise that is her mind. Her eyes open to the dimly lit lighting of a hotel room in poor condition yet surprisingly not reeking of piss, and worried, angry hazel eyes look into hers and she has the nerve to wonder where Nine is.

"Six." Marina's voice is low and hoarse, and a throbbing pain from her abdomen remains in the back of her mind, and the fact that she is unable to heal it makes her more angry than annoyed. But the pain isn't life-threatening so she wishes Six would stop overreacting. "Thought you hated me." The words slip from her tongue and Six's frown fades, and she would laugh if she was still capable.

Lips press against hers in an answer. A hand moves the hair away from her face and the soft skin caressing her own is enough to make Marina forget. A moan builds up in her mouth as Six's lips trail down her jaw to the sensitive skin of her neck, and once teeth come into the mix she gasps and her eyes close shut, and she lets herself fantasize all the ways Six could make her forget because there isn't any harm in that right now. After all, Six does the same.

"Where's Nine?" she manages to say once Six finally removes her lips from Marina's skin. Her eyes shine with anger and lust and worry and just a hint of fear, and Marina knows that this is for her eyes only; there is no one else Six could ever trust enough. Marina's thoughts go back to the convent, Adelina, the John Hancock Center, Dulce, and she wonders how she had changed so much. How she had changed in so little time.

"He won't be back for hours." Six kisses her again, this time chaste, not passionate, and Marina closes her eyes as Six's hands begin to wander. Touching, feeling, caressing, knowing each and every flaw in Marina's skin and promising she is beautiful no matter how she puts the pieces of the puzzle of her appearance together. Marina doesn't know why Six promises these words. She already knows them to be lies.

**v.**

"You fucking traitor!" Words spoken in anger and rising up in the heat of battle and apologies spewed, screamed, but not believed because Marina _knows_ that he means none of these sickening words draped in honey guarded by wasps, and the ice drives through Five's only good eye, and she feels not anger but relief because the traitor is dead. The traitor is dead. The traitor. Traitor. Dead. He is nothing but a traitor. So why does she have doubts?

* * *

She wakes up screaming, her limbs flying and the pain in her abdomen a ghost of what it used to be and her eyes fly open much too late to see Six's arms wrapped around her waist. Lips press against her neck and words are whispered against the skin. "Was it about Five?"

"Yes." She curses the night which brings her these disgusting memories and rolls with her back to Six who sits up. "They're always about Five." A growl escapes from Six's throat and Marina feels the warmth leaving the bed, so she turns back to face Six who stands dressed in what she slept in - a black tank top and jeans - and knowing enough about Six, Marina sits up. "He's dead."

"That doesn't erase the scar." Six's words tell only of the identical scars on their ankles which speaks of the abominable betrayal, but Marina can't help but think back to the very different scar left on her mind. The scar that gave birth to the bitter death of her Legacy. "I'm going for a walk." Marina's words are spoken with a tone even Six does not challenge, and the black haired girl relents.

"Take the dagger." Six tells her but her words are not necessary. Still, both of them feel safer if the are spoken aloud rather than implied in the silence. Marina's fingers grip the hilt of the dagger as she straps it against her thigh, and she pulls on a black jacket and combat boots before walking towards the door. She hears Six sitting back in bed and feels the unspoken worry and anger that they both share.

* * *

Droplets of rain fall on her face in a welcome dance and she lifts her head to stare at the dark storm clouds overhead which obscure the sun. The rain is a calming force that she desperately needs, but it won't last long. She knows that. Six knows that. Nine knows that. They all know that eventually, maybe in a day, many in an hour, maybe in a year, they are going straight to hell.

Six would even argue they were already there.

Her feet begin walking when her head falls back to the street crowded with parked cars and without even thinking, her hand closes around the vial tucked protectively in her jacket pocket and she feels a rush of fear - and hope - run through her veins. Rain continues to fall on her head and soak her body and, without her permission, her Legacy begins to react with the water and gradually starts to turn it to ice. She concentrates, her eyes closing and her ears opening in their place, and the ice stops forming and breaks off her body, falling to the pavement of the sidewalk. Her eyes open again and she now sees people walking - _humans_ walking - and sees hands holding hands and hears laughter and a scowl of her own doing forms on her face because she knows she could never have that. She and Six are too busy fighting Mogs, killing them, wishing to whatever being resides above that they would stop. And Nine is out of the picture because even with her hardened mask he has a bloodlust she can never match.

The spring air soothes her weary bones. She would laugh at the absurdity if wanted. She is only nineteen. She is not supposed to have weary bones. She is not supposed to be in the middle of a war and she is not supposed to want these things. And a large part of her doesn't. A large part of her dismisses these foolish desires, but the part that is still a child longs to keep them close to her chest.

She feels the dagger against her hand and whirls around, her face staring into the eyes of a Mog whose eyes reflect a greed she knows is to kill a Garde on his own, by his own means. She knees him in the gut and while he's toppled over in pain, she slits his throat with her dagger and gray ash instead of red blood pours out. Within seconds the Mog is only a clump of ash and the memory that he was here remains firmly locked inside her mind.

* * *

Her fingers press again the scar carved into her ankle in a repetitive, circular motion. Traitor leaves her lips and gives her a feeling of loneliness even with Six sleeping next to her, fidgeting in her sleep for reasons she refuses to explain. Right under the traitor's symbol is Eight's and Marina feels a coldness in her chest even when she thinks of him. Like she's done so many times before, she closes her eyes and tries to remember how he said her name, how his eyes looked, how his lips felt against hers, but she cannot recall any of these memories. She has even forgotten what he even looked like.

It terrifies her.

**vi.**

"Six?"

Marina hears the muffled sobs and doesn't equate this with Six, but she knows that Nine would only dare to cry if no one else was around to hear it. Six is the same, but Marina supposes she would be more inclined to crying with Marina present if she had to cry in front of someone. She hears shuffling within the room she and Six share; she wishes Six wouldn't be so quick to hide her emotions. They've all changed so much but even Marina cannot shake the reality that emotions can't always be shunned when you want to make them disappear.

"Come in." Six's voice is steady yet a small tremor still exists, but Marina ignores her observation and opens the door slowly and closes it behind her at the same pace. The sheets on the bed are in disarray and Six is still dressed in the clothes from the night before. Her own dagger rests on the night stand next to Marina's; in another life she might have found that sickeningly poetic.

"Are you okay?" Marina asks and Six nods but still goes to sit on the bed and pats the spot next to her. Marina takes up the invitation. Her leg brushes against Six's and she wonders what would have happened to them if they weren't alien. Six doesn't answer the question so Marina gently places her hand on Six's knee. She feels the heat of another life form through the fabric of Six's jeans and is once again marvelled she is able to feel anything aside from the cold.

"I was just thinking..." Six's voice trails off on a road neither of them wish to acknowledge. Instead of speaking, Six kisses Marina once, then twice, her lips desperate and wanting and needing to forget whatever plagues her mind. Marina returns the kiss with as much want, but she knows that they both need to get rid of whatever memories are eating them both. She knows that she'll need to speak up about the vial and she knows that even Nine, asshole supreme, needs to comes to terms that they are all fucked up in one way or another.

But for now, she will kiss Six and pretend that they aren't going to die any time soon.

**vii.**

The scent of blood invades her nostrils and she hears the sound of Six's screams of anguish from behind her as more Mogs fall in waves, but Marina only knows the sight of Nine's mangled body in front of her and the body of the Piken that lies ahead, slowly dissolving into ash as if to taunt her. He is losing too much blood too quickly, and without even a hint Eight's body invades her mind and a bloodcurdling scream escapes her lips because this is just like Eight's death. She cannot save Nine just as she failed to heal Eight; once she comes back to the present she backs away from Nine's bleeding form, her eyes wide and capturing everything she wants to forget.

She swallows the bile that threatens to expel itself from her mouth and she tries to make herself forget Eight, forget everything about him, forget that she couldn't save _one_ goddamned life. She hears her name being screamed in anger and her head whips around to see Six, her face a mixture of anger and disbelief, and Marina steels herself and vows that she is not going to let Nine die, secrets be damned.

She kneels at his body bleeding too heavily and, after taking a deep breath she knows she can't afford to take, she removes the vial from her jacket and uncorks it. Nine - bleeding, broken, _dying_ Nine - realizes the magnitude of this from the way his eyes widen. "You piece of shit. You didn't."

"I did." She presses the vial to his lips and he drinks the contents without protest because no matter how selfless you are you will never turn down the gift of life, and his wounds heal and the blood sinks into his skin. When he opens his eyes they speak of betrayal and anger and everything else Marina had never calculated before, and she knows what she has done.

* * *

"I did it to save your life, you ungrateful bastard!" Her voice is so unlike who she used to be she almost laughs despite the tension hanging in the air. Nine stands a few feet away from her with his arms crossed in defiance that almost makes her vomit. The abandoned two story house the three of them reside in suddenly feels so small now and Marina knows that somehow, in some way, the place is going to burn.

"You wanted to use it on Eight, Marina! He's dead! Don't you get it? Eight. Is. Dead. He isn't coming back no matter how much you try to deny the scar on your ankle." An ice dagger sprouts just above his head and his face grows red while his scowl grows. She can feel the anger radiating off his body and she prays to what ever being is up there that he gets some sense before he's killed.

"How selfish do you think I am?" The lie slips from her lips and she forgets what she was even going to say instead of those words, and she wishes to hell and back that she had never met these people. Her fists unclench yet her scowl never fades, and Nine's eyes which might have once be filled with confidence now reflect disappointment, and she realizes just how much this has effected him. Still they both know he's being an ungrateful shit no matter how the situation looks, and neither of them are going to forget this in the morning.

* * *

She sits in the bed she and Six still share, her back against the headboard and the sheets away from her body. The empty vial is pushed from finger to finger and her eyes focus on the weight that no longer rests in it, and she realizes it would have been better to throw it away the second she found it. The room is dimly lit by the dying lamp on the nightstand; the light casts and eerie glow that Marina finds fitting, given the situation.

She hears Six's footsteps outside the room and the door opens. Marina doesn't turn her face and instead waits for Six to sit down in front of her, and when Six does speak her words aren't angry.

"I get why you did it even though it was selfish. Nine is just being an asshole right now; it'll blow over once the next fight against the Mogs happens." Marina looks up and notices Six looks neither relieved nor angry. Just accepting. They both know that all three of them are selfish enough to consider what Marina wanted to do. Marina takes Six's hand - her palm is soft despite the calloused fingers - and almost smiles at her.

"Thanks."

**viii.**

The car they ride in feels empty. Nine drives and Marina sits shotgun while Six sleeps in the back. Neither of them speak because they still hate each other and neither of them would know what to say. She finds the silence soothing if not annoying because at least it gives her time to realize that the sunset behind them would be more beautiful if they weren't going to die.

Marina's hand feels the scar on her ankle that matches John's symbol, and pretends that he's sleeping next to Six in the backseat.

**ix.**

The thunderstorm is, surprisingly, not because of Six because the black haired girl is sleeping next to Marina. Her face is contorted from nightmares that Marina can only kiss away but not stop, and she wonders how Six can sleep through the claps of thunder which shake the hotel room. The room is coated in a darkness Marina finds oddly soothing; she wonders if Nine is awake and whether he is thinking about the deaths of everyone they've ever known. If he is, Marina knows for a fact he won't be able to sleep.

She stares at the dark ceiling, her thoughts running around her head without the understanding of the word organized, and she closes her eyes because no matter what she does it will always be dark. Her hand finds Six's and she squeezes it with the realization that nothing is ever going to be all right.


End file.
